


Not Quite the Start

by TheMagneticWitch



Series: To Herd Cybercats [1]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen, and some unnamed characters at the end?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 03:14:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12224592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMagneticWitch/pseuds/TheMagneticWitch
Summary: "... Are you, um. Going to warn Blaster, or..?""It'll do those three some good being used as target practice in a semi-controlled environment, and I really hate being called Sunshine."





	Not Quite the Start

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting to AO3 so please tell me if I screwed up anywhere!
> 
> ALSO! A couple of important things to know first:
> 
> 1.) Please note this series IS in the Bayverse movie franchise (And trust me, I'm going to screw with that disaster ending to the first one before you know it...), so if you need to know which incarnation this is, well, there you go! Bayverse! I say this because I tagged a couple, which I'm about to explain why.  
> 2.) I tagged both G1 and Bayverse because I'm gonna be borrowing the scene from Bayverse, but bring in characters from G1. Which, hello - Sunstreaker, anyone? Sideswipe's twin who WASN'T EVEN IN THE MOVIES BEFORE SIDESWIPE DIED? But yeah, my entire cast for at least awhile is purely G1 characters I guess, so please don't think I'm bringing in Oc's.
> 
> REPEAT. NO OC'S.

" _...nyone... er... e?_ "

Hotshot frowned, turning up the volume to his station. Slipstream looked over at him,

"Do you have something?"

"Dunno — can you tune your settings to Delta C74? I'd rather not leave some helpless bot stranded if I can help it." The flier did as asked, tapping a claw thoughtfully against her shiny teal plating. Sunstreaker must have finally gotten her to wax.

" _...epeat: I detect a life signal within communications range, can anyone hear me?_ " Hotshot reset his optics, stunned, and chanced a glance at Slipstream. She was openly gawking at her console. Hotshot sprang into action; Sunstreaker would be _really_ mad if this was a friend of his and they didn't help!

: _Sunstreaker! We have a signal!_ :

: _Coordinates and channel?_ : The mech who was technically his age asked instantly, tone serious. (Not that he was usually anything _but_ serious, except—well, sometimes Sunstreaker at least sounded relaxed if he was boarding himself up in the tactics hall. Everyone knew Sunstreaker liked to use the three-dimensional tactics console to draw, but only Pyra Magna had gotten away with seeing it in person since everyone pretended they didn't know about Sunstreaker's hobby.)

: _Channel is Delta C74, and coordinates are..._ : Hotshot double-checked before sending them.

: _I'll be in there in a couple of kliks—for now, you and Slipstream answer the distress beacon._ :

: _Y-yes, Sunstreaker!_ : Hotshot resisted the urge to stack on a  _sir_. It just wasn't natural, someone his age being so hardened... but then, that's what Hotshot got for being put into stasis before the so-called Great War started, and Sunstreaker was apparently what happened when you were among the last generation sparked, during the war on top of that. It was... Sad.

Slipstream's Field flickered against his tentatively, curiously, and Hotshot shook himself. No time for reminiscing! Someone needed their help!

"Unknown vessel, please identify yourself," Hotshot spoke into the long-distance comm. There was a beat of silence, then;

" _Oh thank Primus, I thought I was hallucinating your signal! My designation is Blaster, affiliation: Autobot._ "

"Well, Blaster, you're in good servos. Sunstreaker's bringing us to you in record timing!"

"Sunstreaker? _Last I heard, he was battling it out in the ruins of Praxus! Right on up there in the front lines!_ "

That was news to Hotshot, but then Sunstreaker didn't really like to talk about himself all that much.

"Oh. Uh... Yeahhh, no one's stationed on Cybertron, so..."

" _Right, 'course not. No Allspark, no resources... Just frag me I guess!_ "

"So Blaster, you doing alright? Do we need to prep the medbay?"

" _You have an actual_ _medbay_?" The mech asked, awed, and Slipstream took over smugly.

"We sure do, and by this point it's probably the cleanest spot in this entire Unicron-infected universe!"

" _..._ _Well_ dang," Blaster replied, a hint of some old accent or twang in his voice. " _I think that's probably the best fragging thing I've heard all vorn! And man, if the Sunshine himself managed to survive this long then I guess there's hope for all our sorry afts! So who's your ranking officer?_ "

"That would be _me_." Sunstreaker said, right in Hotshot's audial, and heresisted the urge to jump guiltily. Slipstream's Field pressed against his, and he just knew she was laughing at him. Hotshot scowled at her.

" _W-what?_ _Sunshine?_ You're _the ranking officer? B-but what about Prowl, or Jazz, or-?_ " _Or literally anyone else_ , the mech's tone implied as he trailed off. Hotshot bristled defensively on Sunstreaker's behalf.

"Blaster. I am going to say this once. _I_ am currently the highest ranking personnel on this vessel. When we retrieve you, _you'll_ be the CO. I am also the _only one_ on this Primus forsaken cruiser that knows how to use a blaster because _everyone else was in stasis_ and so help me but you'd _better_ help with these- _these_ —!"

" _Right!_ " Squeaked Blaster from the other end of the line, " _Got it! No problem, Sunshine!_ "

" _DON'T CALL ME THAT._ " Sunstreaker snarled, and his expression was terrifying as he punched the buttons that logged off the channel. They dented from the force he used.

Silence dominated as the golden mech fumed, and Hotshot carefully diverted his gaze so as to not be caught staring. This was made more difficult by the simple fact that, quite honestly, Sunstreaker was rather pretty to look at. Slipstream, Hotshot noticed, was doing the same thing as him. She shuttered a red optic in a wink when she caught him staring.

"Pit," Sunstreaker muttered under his breath, and Hotshot didn't have a chance to question him when the display screen popped up; Blaster's shuttle, if it could be called that, was more like an elaborately upgraded escape pod that might have once been impressive but was now in shambles. Several portions were missing entirely or sparking with disrepair, and the engines appeared to have been blown out for a long while now. Hotshot wondered how long Blaster had simply drifted there, praying to Primus that someone friendly might come along and not just blow him to smithereens, energon slowly draining... The red and blue mech shuddered. What an agonizingly slow, awful way to offline.

"Slipstream, get your Trine; you three are getting the newbie." Slipstream saluted, grinning winningly.

"You got it, Sunstreaker! Sunstorm, Ramjet and I will be as fast as a turbo fox!"

Sunstreaker rolled his optics, but he did seem less tense when he replied.

"Yeah, yeah — time's ticking, so you better get to proving that." Slipstream practically ran out, her wings vibrating excitedly at a chance to fly.

"Is there anything I can do?" Hotshot offered. Sunstreaker's blue optics darted to him speculatively, and Hotshot allowed his own optics to widen appreciatively behind his visor. And then an idea struck him as he recalled several stories regarding Trine's being few and far between the Autobot faction.

"... Are you, um. Going to warn Blaster, or..?"

Sunstreaker smirked.

"It'll do those three some good being used as target practice in a semi-controlled environment, and I _really_ hate being called Sunshine."

Hotshot snorted, grinning despite himself. Ramjet's bright orange altmode was approaching the pod, maneuvering carefully as was his incredibly timid nature. Slipstream, a flash of blue and purple highlights, was the first to be fired upon. Sunstreaker sighed with appreciation at their panicked sqawking, totally relaxed.

"They're not going to actually get hurt, are they? Like, they aren't in any actual danger?" Asked Hotshot somewhat worriedly, watching Sunstorm's aggressive swaying that showed a dramatic increase in his irritation levels. Sunstreaker shook his head,

"Blaster can't do a damn thing that'll stick. At worse they'll have a processor ache or need to buff their paint. Maybe a sprained strut, if they keep on flailing like that. See how pale Blaster's shots are compared to Ramjet's disablers even on his lowest non-lethal setting? Means Blaster's low on energon, so he can't afford to waste anything. He's probably been siphoning off his ship's engine for a good few orbital-cycles."

"Oh," Hotshot said, committing Sunstreaker's words to memory. The ill-tempered mech's experience in this sort of thing was worth its weight in energon. (It was still so hard to believe; Cybertron, depleted entirely of resources and incapable of sustaining life not its own—)

"Alright, that's enough," sighed the frontliner when Sunstorm almost collided with the pod, and Hotshot snickered. The blue and red mech went silent and stone faced when Sunstreaker glanced at him before his attention returned to the screen.

"Hey, Blaster, you mind not shooting at my three stooges? I kind of need them for retrieval missions."

" _Wait, but—they're_ fliers! _They aren't part of Silverbolt's gestalt! I don't even have files on them!_ "

"Like I said earlier, _stasis_. But if you want to keep shooting at younglings all solar cycle—"

The laser fire immediately halted. Ramjet and Slipstream collided mid-flight, and Sunstorm transformed just so he could physically face palm. Hotshot found himself chuckling at the egotistical mech's exaggerated expression of pure long-suffering.

" _W-_ what? _But I thought Bumblebee-?_ "

" _What part of stasis are you not computing you idiotic waste of bolts?_ "

" _Sorry!_ " Blaster cried. With a roll of his optics, Sunstreaker once again disconnected the comm. system. Hotshot tried very, very hard not to laugh, but a couple of snickers still escaped his vocalizer. Sunstreaker's disgruntled stare had the opposite effect of silencing him, and instead the red and blue mech burst into chuckles.

"You—I'm sorry, but—you sounded just so legitimately disgusted!"

"Well maybe I am!" The gold mech replied peevishly, and it just made Hotshot laugh even harder.

On the display screen a red mech was being strong-armed between Ramjet and Slipstream, appearing rather flat footed and disoriented. Sunstorm looked as though he rather regretted leaving the safe confines of the ship, staring disdainfully after his Trine. Hotshot didn't know who he thought he was fooling; Sunstorm had an ego larger than Primus, and he may have been suffering from somewhat peculiar processor damage (they REALLY needed a medic!), but it was obvious in the little ways that he _did_  care for his Trine.

(No, but seriously; a medic would be _more than great_. Totally fantastic, even!)

: _No way! Who's the new guy?!_ :

: _There'sanewguy?_ :

: _Wow, really? I wanna see!_ :

: _You guys could use the_ private _comm.'s, you know! I was in recharge!_ :

Sunstreaker vented as chatter exploded on the public channel. Hotshot forced himself not to giggle.

"... Are you going to be giving everybody that lecture about private comm.'s after all, then?"

" _Yes_."

It was a pretty good solar cycle, all things considered.


End file.
